


Fading Horizons

by shadows_of_1832 (SaoirseVictoire)



Series: Rain and Ashes [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: EnjonineWeek2019, Gen, day 1: revolution, i am the devil but it's all the same to me, lmxfmab crossover, lmxfmab crossover - Ishval Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 10:24:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20208205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaoirseVictoire/pseuds/shadows_of_1832
Summary: “The least I can do is try. Besides, it’s too late for me to turn back now.”





	Fading Horizons

Enjolras finds her sitting on the roof of the group’s makeshift hospital, gazing out towards the horizon. He sees smoke still rising in the distance, and the smell of burning flesh hits his nose, but he’s too used to the smell by now to cringe from it. He wonders if she takes notice of it, too.

“Joly said you should still be downstairs in recovery,” he says, glancing at the young woman’s wounds, wrapped in bandages around her shoulder.

Eponine shrugs her uninjured shoulder. “I couldn’t stay in there, too crowded.”

He walks over to her, her ruby eyes focused on the sunset. He takes a deep breath, then sits down beside her. “You’ll risk your recovery this way, Thenardier.”

“What does it matter? My people and I will be gone before this war is over. I just want to enjoy what few sunsets I have left here, what few sunsets the people of Ishval have. What wrong is there in that?”

“None,” he replies.

A pause.

“The help of you Amestrians are only prolonging the inevitable,” she says. “Your nation’s alchemists, they’re turning the tides of what was a stalemate faster than you and your rebel countrymen can combat. Don’t die trying to save those you know you can’t. Get out of here, go home.”

_If only I had a home to go to_. “I’m not admitting defeat, not yet, not when there’s still a chance.”

Eponine scoffs, then shakes her head. “Your optimism will be the death of you.”

“Then let it; at least I know it’s because what I’m doing what I believe is right.” He looks back out towards the setting sun, reflecting brilliant hues of orange and red across the desert sand. His eyes flicker to the piles of rubble in the village below, trying not to think of the terror that had occurred earlier that day, the screams that fell silent on soldiers’ ears and the blood that covered the ground, and how such events have become a daily viewing and how they will continue to happen for who knows how long, despite their efforts.

“It’s foolishness,” she argues, cringing a bit when she moves her injured arm to adjust how she’s sitting. “Doesn’t matter what you do.”

“The least I can do is try,” he replies. Flashes of screams and distorted faces reach his mind, and his breath shakes. “Besides, it’s too late for me to turn back now.”

Eponine turns her head to him, her brow furrowed. Her eyes flicker downwards, then up to read his face. She turns back to the horizon.


End file.
